


Ficlets

by AnyaElizabeth



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, HP Pairing Generator, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-02-24
Updated: 2010-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:39:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnyaElizabeth/pseuds/AnyaElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some random, old, very unpolished ficlets based on prompts from a <a href="http://www.sand-in-my-shoes.com/ragna/RandomPairings-HarryPotter.html">HP Pairing Generator</a>. New "chapters" will be added if I write any more based on the generator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ficlets

**Severus Snape/ Lucius Malfoy/a very still life**

"Fancy seeing you here," purred a voice in what passed for Snape's ear, nowadays. He ignored it, and kept what passed for his eyelids shut.

He felt – no, he did not feel, he only _knew,_ in a detached, logical sort of way, that he'd received a poke in the side. Not that he had a side, as such.

"Oh, what is it?" he snapped, and then he realised that Lucius Malfoy was beside him. Well, a painting of Lucius Malfoy, at least.

A very nice painting, though he knew it without any of that intermediate _seeing_ going on. The painting was obviously commissioned quite a while before Lucius died – not that he'd known Lucius was dead until now – and it depicted a young Lucius in form-fitting formal robes with a white ruffled collar and cuffs. The artist had evidently got the smirk just right.

"Your artist was kind to you, Severus," said Lucius, tone rich with approval, another thing he knew rather than experienced. "Or perhaps you grew into your features more than I imagined you would."

"You look better than you have done in a long while," said Snape, ignoring him. "How did you die?"

"Oh, I've no idea," he said, waving his painted hand dismissively. "I've not asked anyone yet. Dreadfully quiet in Malfoy Manor these days – whatever happened to the dinner parties?"

"Certain Dark Lords intervened," said Snape.

"Oh, is that how you, ahem, departed, then?"

"So I'm told," he said darkly. "I was bitten by that damn snake. But thankfully I managed to convey all of my most private memories to Potter so that he could throw himself to his slaughter and inevitable victory."

"Oh, shame on you, Severus," said Lucius, not sounding terribly upset. "You helped the Potter boy?"

"Even at eighteen, I was a spy, Lucius," Snape informed him. Lucius's painted expression stayed remarkably calm – then again, everything that mattered in life seemed a little distanced here.

"Well, that does shed more light on your reluctance to join our parties," said Lucius. "You should have said."

"Hardly makes a difference now," said Snape.

"I always thought you were just coy," said Lucius, sidling closer in Severus's frame. Though, of course, all movement was sidling nowadays.

"I tell you I'm a spy, and all you're concerned about is my reticence to go muggle-hunting? You can tell you're a younger you," said Snape, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, it's not the muggle-hunting I'm talking about, Severus," said Lucius. "It's the thrill of the chase... and the thrill of the after-party."

Lucius was sliding a hand up his thigh; he knew this was the case, knew he was supposed to be feeling it, and was surprised when the thought of what it _should_ have felt like was far more vivid than he was expecting.

"Would you believe, Lucius, that over the years you actually got bored of this sort of thing?" he said coldly, shifting away. "That you cared most for your family at the end?"

"I care for my family now," said Lucius, equally coldly. Then his voice softened to seduction. "But I'll never get bored of being a libertine, dearest Severus. Or at least, this painting will not, which sits very well with me. Does it not sit well with you?"

"You wretched man," muttered Snape. "How did you even get here?"

"There's a painting of Narcissa and her family in the house, which lets me get to Grimmauld, which lead me to Phineas," he said. Snape looked to Phineas's portrait, which stopped pretending to snore and winked.

"Urgh," said Snape despairingly. "That man."

"You can get anywhere with contacts," said Lucius silkily. "Now stop trying to divert me. It really is dreadfully boring being a portrait, and I always believed you'd be so much fun if only you could _unwind_." This comment was accompanied by the oddly pleasant not-sensation that trailed circles up his not-thigh.

"Imagine what the Headmistress would say if she saw," snapped Snape. "Imagine what this lot of voyeuristic old coots would say."

He gestured at the circle of snoring headteachers.

"Ahh, but we are all mere voyeurs nowadays, staring out of our frames at the real world," said Lucius, kissing what would be his neck. It was a hazy sort of eroticism, knowing you were being kissed without having a corporeal body to feel it with, but it was eroticism nonetheless, and Severus was tempted.

"And why shouldn't we make art imitate life?" murmured Lucius, his voice winding quiet and sensuous through his consciousness. Severus succumbed to the hazy thought-feeling of Lucius' hands, and resolved to enjoy himself in death; He was only paint and varnish, anyway.

And after all, he thought, they would make a very pleasing painting indeed.

 

**Zacharias Smith / Remus Lupin / no shirt on**

Aacharias Smith can pinpoint the exact moment he realised he fancied men.

It was third year, and everyone was afraid of Sirius Black. Except Zacharias – Black was after Potter, everyone knew that, and everyone in the world was protecting _Potter_. No, it was the dementors that bothered him more – how could they be expected to do anything, how could they study, with the happiness sucked out of the very air?

But Zacharias wasn't stupid. He'd seen the Quidditch match – Potter had a spell to defeat dementors, and there was only one place he could have learned it. Providing the know-it-all he hung around with hadn't taught him, and Zacharias was pretty sure she couldn't have, or everyone would know. Only Potter liked to keep useful information to himself.

So he'd gone to Lupin'd office. He'd knocked, but Lupin did not reply. So he'd peered around the door.

And stopped, unable to breathe. Lupin was shirtless with his back to the door, rubbing salve carefully into a wounded shoulder. His back was scarred but golden and leanly muscled, silvery scars rippling as his shoulders worked, drawing diagonal lines down to the waistband of his low-slung trousers. Lupin glanced back, and his eyes were golden and animal as he gave him his usual warm smile.

That day, that smile shot though Zacharias like fire.

"Oh, sorry," he said softly, gracefully sliding his shirt over his shoulders again. "Got a bit of a scratch out on the grounds."

Zacharias wondered why he'd never heard that purr in his voice before, like a tamed beast.

He felt light-headed.

"Can I help you?" he said again, moving around his desk, and Zacharias swallowed. He did not speak – he could not, with heat and embarrassment running through him like a shock. Full of new and terrifying knowledge, he ran.

He's not looked back from there.

 

**Draco Malfoy / Seamus Finnigan / multiple options**

Seamus hadn't meant to intrude, he really hadn't. After all, when you see a pair of blokes stood the way they were stood, close together in a shadowy corner, leaning a bit _too_ close, you're bound to do a double-take. Seamus did, and then he did a triple-take, because it was Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy.

"Damn," he murmured to himself. Maybe he really _wasn't_ bonking Parkinson after all. Or maybe he was just laid back. Or maybe Seamus had a dirty mind, and they were simply plotting like Slytherins.

Of course, reasoned Seamus, if they _were_ plotting, it was really his duty as a Gryffindor to listen in.

Seamus tiptoed backward a little and ducked behind a nearby suit of armour.

"Malfoy," said Blaise, in his perpetually seductive voice. "I don't think that's a good plan."

"It's an excellent plan," said Malfoy, in a strange, strangled voice, as though he was trying to be suave and failing miserably. Seamus squinted to see if there was a less ambiguous indication that this was nefarious rather than laviscious, but he could only see the back of Malfoy's head.

"I'm sorry," said Blaise, sounding rather more bored than apologetic. "You're really not my type. _Really_."

Seamus clamped his hand over his mouth to prevent his surprised snort.

"No need to be like that," sneered Draco, sounding more like his usual self – or at least, she side the Gryffindors saw. "You're not exactly top of my list. But you're the only one I know, and I'm probably going to _die a virgin_ otherwise, and everyone else is busy getting laid –"

Seamus had to resist the urge to crack up. Blaise had no such restraint.

"You're joking," said Blaise, chuckling warmly. "You're chatting me up because I am the only man you know who likes men. Draco, I know you're known for your disastrous plans, but you must have realised that was never going to work."

Draco made an irritated noise.

"Look, I think you're hot as well, alright? And I thought, we're Slytherins, we get on, maybe we could just fool around –"

Seamus had never heard Malfoy talk like that. It was positively cute.

"Suave, Malfoy," said Blaise, deadpan. "Look, I like _men_, thanks."

"Oh, like you're so mature," said Draco, not his best retort. Seamus could hardly breathe from trying not to laugh.

"Bye, Draco," said Blaise, rolling his eyes, and then he sauntered off back down the corridor.

Draco stood in the alcove for a moment, and Seamus eyed him. He dearly wanted to see his expression.

He stepped out from behind the armour and strolled past with his hands in his pockets.

Draco jumped and whirled – Seamus grinned and smirked at him.

"Blaise Zabini?" he said. "_Really_."

Draco went white. Then he drew his wand.

"Finnigan," he growled. "If you say a word –"

"About what, mate? You wanting a bit of cock or you getting turned down?" said Seamus, grinning. Malfoy took a few angry, ill-thought-out steps towards him, wand still out, so Seamus reached out and grabbed it out of his hand. Malfoy was about as tall as him, sure, but in a fistfight Seamus would kick his arse and he knew it.

"Give that back," said Malfoy. He'd gone from white to a dull red.

"Why?" said Seamus. "So you can hex me?"

"Yes!" said Malfoy, making a grab for it. Seamus stepped back.

"Not much incentive, that," he said, putting it behind his back. Malfoy made another lunge, and Seamus dodged; Malfoy growled again, and tried to pin Seamus against the wall with one hand while he scrabbled behind Seamus's back for his wand. A moment's near-silent struggle, and Seamus realised – he was pressed up against a pefectly pleasant body, a situation he would not usually be fighting. He stilled, speculatively, jaw close to Malfoy's mouth, and Malfoy seemed to realise too.

Seamus relinquished the wand. Malfoy stayed frozen.

Seamus gave him a look over, somewhat cross-eyed from their proximity. Malfoy was a ratty boy, and no mistake, and nothing like Seamus's usual type. But he had an aristocratic sort of pretty to him, elegant and effete, and he had to be fit and flexible with all the Quidditch he did. He was also obviously gagging for it, and Seamus wasn't really the kind to turn down a bit of fun.

"You know," he said casually, tilting his head so his mouth was not-quite-touching the corner of Malfoy's. "Blaise Zabini ain't all that."

"What do you mean?" said Draco, mistrustful but not moving.

"Well, I'm just saying... his head's too far up his own arse to let anyone else in it," he said, shrugging off Draco's hands and shoving his own back in his pockets. He shifted his hips deliberately, feeling the definite imprint of an erection against his thigh, then backed up and slipped away from Malfoy with a grin.

"And he's not the only one in Hogwarts," he continued cheerfully. "There are always others."

Malfoy stopped looking surprised and started looking speculative. It was a much more attractive look.

"That's more like it," said Seamus, giving him a knowing nod. "Keep your options open."

He winked, and strolled off back to the common room. He glanced back to see Malfoy eyeing his arse.

He had a feeling he'd have a busy few nights coming up.


End file.
